One Headlight
by swiftasdeer
Summary: Bethyl 90's AU. "Who are you in the dark? Who are you when nobody is around to see or judge or remember? Everyone can lie and spew off how good and true they'd be, and that's fine, if it helps them sleep better at night. But it's heartbreaking if we can't be really, truthfully honest with ourselves."
1. in the middle

**A/N: So this is my first attempt at a longer chaptered fic and I'm a bit nervous! It's a bit out of my comfort zone. I don't know how long it'll be, I'm still working that out. Hopefully you guys enjoy it!**

**This story starts off in early Spring, 1997.**

* * *

Waking in the morning was nice for a couple of seconds. In his post-sleep haze, Daryl forgot all about the happenings of last night and the pain in his right thigh was nonexistent until he stupidly decided to stretch out his limbs. It shot through him and his entire body seized, foggy memories slowly seeping back into his head. Merle was always the source of chaos in his life but last night was a new low.

Daryl inspected the half-assed bandaged wrapped around his leg, noting that he had started to bleed through it. He wasn't about to take himself to the hospital last night, knowing full well he'd have to explain the entire series of events or else come up with some elaborate lie on how he was stabbed in the thigh (with something that wasn't any kind of conventional knife). The wound was small and round, thankfully not too deep, but he had no idea what the weapon had been; there were too many people and too much noise for him to have caught it or the culprit. All he could recall was a shooting pain coursing through his leg and then Merle "accidentally" stomping on his hand. That was bruised too.

He managed to shuffle to the bathroom, doing his best to not favor his good leg but dammit, the limp was inevitable. He didn't have time for this, not now. Tomorrow was the start of his new job, remodeling a staircase for some couple downtown, and he couldn't show up all battered and hobbling like a gimp.

A hot shower helped with his mood some but when he staggered out to the living room and caught sight of Merle sprawled out on the couch, all scrapes and shiners, it took a turn south. His reaction must have been obvious.

"Well good morning to you too, sunshine," the elder Dixon crowed, still managing a grin with his split lip. "Wouldja look at that, you actually look like a man. Not so pansy-assed all cut up."

Daryl didn't warrant his brother with a response, choosing to hop his way past him into the kitchen. Silence never stopped Merle, though.

"You ready to finish what we started last night?"

"What we started? You mean what _you_ started. I bailed your stupid ass outta trouble. Should be thankin' me," Daryl finally bit back. He wasn't in the mood for his brother's taunting this morning. If it weren't so awful of him, he would wish Merle would disappear for a week or so on some bender, just so he could have some peace.

"Good to know you still haven't found your balls yet, baby brother," Merle cracked. "Now what's on the menu for breakfast?"

* * *

Being alone was one of Daryl's favorite things. He usually got a lot of time by his lonesome, working by himself most of the time, and getting the apartment to himself when Merle was out sticking his nose where he shouldn't have been. But sometimes Daryl needed even more, and that's why the library was one of his favorite places.

He knew most people wouldn't peg him as the reading type and that was fine, he liked when people were wrong about him. At least in instances like that. And he knew that it probably wasn't the first place someone would come looking for him if they were trying to hunt him down. So he really could just be alone.

With the morning paper in hand, Daryl claimed a table along the back wall. There were lots of folks there today, mostly college kids and the sort, he figured. It didn't bother him none though, as long as he was able to get lost in his own world.

He'd only just opened to the second page when his attention was captured by someone clearing their throat.

"Mind if I join ya?" a younger blonde girl inquired, her smile carrying all the way to her eyes. Looking around, he noted that all the tables were full except for the empty seat across from him. Daryl simply grunted in reply and gave a shrug, turning his focus back to the paper. "Didn't expect so many people here today but I guess everyone's crammin' for midterms."

He didn't bother with any kind of guttural noise that time, It didn't matter though because her scooting about in her chair and constant rifling through her bag was distracting enough for Daryl; he could feel his eyes drifting from the newsprint with every movement she made. It grew irritating, steadily.

He couldn't focus on reading so he settled on subtly observing her; he assumed she was a local student by her youthful face and short floral dress. She had no textbooks though, just plain cover journal that she gingerly opened and began scrawling in. His stealthy examining must have slipped though and he looked away just in time to avoid eye contact.

"Sometimes it just seems like the whole world's about to end, doesn't it?" Her voice was lighthearted, as if she was making some sort of joke. But Daryl didn't take it as such. The words resonated in his ears and he could hear the blood pumping through them.

Not being accustomed to small talk from strangers, he shot her a strange look before turning his eyes back down to the paper in his hands. He knew she was probably commenting on the giant headline, some UFO cult committing mass suicide, but he didn't know why she was bothering him. Weren't libraries supposed to be a quiet place?

The girl must have not taken the hint, ignoring her writing completely as she squinted at the newspaper in his hand. He could tell she was attempting to read the story, her lips moving to silently form words.

"You can buy a damn paper outside," he all but growled and it had the desired effect. The girl recoiled back into her chair, wide eyed and parted lips. Daryl might have thought her pretty had she not been such a pest.

"Sorry," she mumbled, pink creeping up her neck and into her cheeks. She went straight back to writing, keeping her head down, nose merely inches from the paper.

With a sigh, Daryl turned back to the story he was in the middle of, only to find himself lacking the desire to continue with it. Damn people always had to kill every nice moment he found.

Exaggerating to convey his annoyance, he pushed himself up from the table and stomped down a nearby aisle, not knowing what he was looking for. His eyes scanned books spines but his brain didn't process what he was actually reading. It didn't matter anyway, he just wanted to lose himself in something, but all he kept hearing was Merle's taunting voice in his head.

_'My my, so easily agitated by a little bitch, Darlina.'_

The girl was still at the table when he finally found his way back; sheepishly, she peeked up at him but quickly went back to her scribbling when he scoffed at her. Taking his seat again, he realized what he had grabbed. A Danish-English dictionary.

Naturally she had noticed it too, being the intrusive headache she had been. Nothing was said, thankfully; she only bit back a smile with little success. But not wanting to give anyone else satisfaction today, Daryl flipped it open as casually as he could.

_You're a fucking idiot_, his brain screamed at him.

Minutes flew by and the girl was silent. Daryl managed to lose himself in the dictionary, attempting to string together insults he could hurl at Merle when the desire struck him. He was just about to look up 'donkey' and 'lover' when the blonde across from him scooted her chair back with an ear-piercing screech and wandered down one of the dozens of aisles. She left behind all her belongings and Daryl flipped to find the word 'stupid'. Who left all their things alone with some stranger in a public place? She must've thought he could care less about her crap and while that probably would have been the case, now he had grown curious.

With sudden boldness, Daryl tossed the dictionary to the side and reached for her journal, flipping it open to the page marked by her pen. He was half expecting something like MRS. JOE SMITH written over and over with little stupid hearts and rainbows, but what he found was very different. Her handwriting with neat and small, as if every word was meticulously considered.

_It's easy to be someone worthwhile in the light of day, for everyone to see; but who we truly are delves deeper than that. Who are you in the dark? Who are you when nobody is around to see or judge or remember? Everyone can lie and spew off how good and true they'd be, and that's fine, if it helps them sleep better at night. But it's heartbreaking if we can't be really, truthfully honest with ourselves, even if no one is there to overhear. So I am honest and I know who I am in the dark, or at least who I can be. I do my best to be kind and brave but I know that deep down, I am undermined by guilt and helplessness. I expect myself to take care of others but so often I am at a loss. I do what I can, I try my best, but giving effort is not always enough. And that's on me._

Running his fingers over the edges of the paper, Daryl forced himself to tear his eyes from the page. It wasn't his business reading this thing but if he was tactless enough to read the girl's private most thoughts in the day than he must be awful enough to do so in the dark.

Merle once again popped into his head, all mockery and jabs.

It didn't take much twisting of his arm for Daryl to tuck the book under his arm and snake his way out of the library. Served her right, he attempted to reason with himself, because she had all but ruined his alone time.


	2. an opening

**A/N: Thanks for all your positive comments and kudos, everyone! I truly, truly appreciate them. :) **

**I'll be updating the summary once I write one I like; I hate those stupid things! ;)**

It was just a normal night out; it had become a weekly ritual that Beth would join her sister and soon to be brother-in-law for dinner. And she almost lived for those nights because they were the only family she had nearby. Beth wasn't stupid, she knew that she had been drifting apart from Maggie for months now, but she had been reassured by friends that it was because of the engagement. Couples get caught up in all the planning and excitement and sometimes the people they love get shuffled off to the side for a little bit. It didn't mean she was any less loved or needed by her sister, it's just how things were. And Beth was painfully aware of the distance between them. But those dinners together brightened her mood every time.

Beth had never been involved in a fight before that night. Sure, she had seen some happen at school (and even on her family's farm; Shawn was always a bit of a hot-head), but it was weird seeing it so up close and personal, the people she cared about most being attacked. Being a part of violence. It flipped a switch inside of her.

The threesome had just left dinner, Maggie and Glenn strolling hand in hand and Beth on the other side of her sister. It was nearly 10 o'clock and Beth was growing tired but refused to admit the smallest bit of exhaustion. She wanted to treasure every moment of their time together. It was interrupted though, Glenn having stopped mid-joke, his face falling as he whispered something into his fiancee's ear.

"Beth," was all her sister breathed, suddenly dropping Glenn's hand to take Beth's. Confused, Beth opened her mouth to speak but was distracted by the realization that they were no longer alone.

An older man she didn't recognize stepped out of the street and stopped to exchange words with Glenn; both he and Maggie looked painfully uncomfortable and the only thing that kept Beth from speaking out was Maggie's intent stare. _Keep your mouth shut._

* * *

Beth had gotten no sleep that night. Her mind was impossible to shut off and there seemed to be an endless supply of adrenaline pumping through her veins. Maggie was conked out on the couch finally (thankfully); the eldest Greene looked worse than Beth had ever seen her, presumably because of the emotional turmoil of the previous evening. And she knew her sister had spent most of the night wide awake too; her pacing was anything but subtle.

It was tempting to stay holed up until she was certain Maggie was able to function, but being cooped up in her apartment meant she was cooped up in her head. She had work in a few hours anyway, so if nothing else, that was her excuse for heading out.

The palms of her hands ached when she grabbed a door handle or pulled on the straps of her backpack, but she didn't let it show. The scrapes would fade and so would the pain. At least hers would. Thinking of Glenn in the ER made her heart ache and she didn't understand why he wouldn't stay with Maggie last night.

It would be easier if she could just force herself to forget everything, but Beth knew that's not how she was programmed. Her curiosity grew every second and her mind devised so many possible explanations that she couldn't keep anything straight. A long bus ride with her Walkman and journal was just what she needed.

* * *

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. It had to be somewhere, she must have misplaced it on accident or maybe someone at the library mistook her journal for a book and it was at the bottom of some monstrous return-to-shelf pile.

The man Beth had shared a table with was different enough. If it had been anyone else in the room, she had thought they'd be kind enough to carry on a conversation with her. And that was all she wanted, really. She'd hardly thought about anything except the incident a few days ago and she just needed some normalcy. She wanted to connect with someone and maybe make somebody's day by being the friendly stranger they chatted idly with for a few minutes. But this guy hadn't seemed interested.

He was scruffy looking and Beth would've guessed he hadn't showered in a day or two. His ill-fitting flannel and ripped jeans made him seem younger than she initially thought, but she highly doubted he was a student. Not that she would know, given she hadn't attended a day of college in her life. But that was besides the point. Maybe he knew what had happened to her journal. She had no way of finding him though; all that was left of him when she returned back to their table from the bathroom was the newspaper he was so fiercely protective of and his stupid English-Danish dictionary. And she wasn't about to put up signs all over the city looking for a scruffy, (wannabe) Danish speaking jerk.

While it would've hurt to lose the journal at any point, she wondered why it had to be now. Before a few days ago, it had been filled with random musings and thoughts, about pointless things (at least things that seemed pointless in retrospect). But after the night from hell she endured with Maggie and Glenn, it had taken on a new purpose. She couldn't call it collecting evidence because she had little to begin with. Maggie's lips were sealed tighter than some nun's knees and she hadn't felt comfortable approaching Glenn about the incident yet. His face was still so discolored that she could barely meet his eyes. So all she wrote about was what had happened and she sporadically deliberated on what was being hidden from her, since the two closest people in her life insisted on keeping her in the dark.

On the bus ride to work, she took out her worry on her thumb nail, dramatically concocting a scenario where her stupid words landed in the wrong hands. Someone who knew what she was vaguely ranting about and decided to take it out on her or Maggie or Glenn, worse than before. She forced herself to laugh it off because really, what were the chances of that happening?

* * *

It had been a day since Daryl had swiped the stupid diary from some stupid girl at the stupid library and what he wouldn't give to turn back time and just leave the damn thing alone. He didn't know what had gotten into him, what had it accomplished? All he did was invade a girl's personal thoughts and probably upset her. Maybe made her cry. He cringed at the mental picture.

He hadn't read anything more of it; it simply sat on his workbench in his garage, covered in a layer of sawdust.

It was lunchtime and he had planned to grab a burger but the lack of hunger he possessed kept him glued to his stool. And there was that journal, staring up at him with its bright blue cover. The words he had read in it the other day had stuck with him, much to his unhappiness, and he didn't even know why. He didn't know the context in which they were written and he didn't care, really. But like an itch he couldn't scratch, he wanted to read more. And what hurt could it really do? So he kicked his feet up and flipped it open to a random page.

_I no longer have the fear of God. I used to fear the consequences I'd face if I did something that might upset him or go against his "word". Stupid things, like how angry would he be that I didn't capitalize his pronouns just now? I can only imagine daddy's face of disproval but that's the point. Would God really care? Would he hold it against me and shun me from heaven (if there is such a place?) if I wasn't sorry for doing such an insignificant thing? I don't think so. But people are different. They take the notion of God and use him as a tool for themselves, to wield power and lead with fear. And God isn't someone we should be afraid of, if he even exists at all. He should be a source of comfort, because that's what the world is lacking these days. That's what I would want in my God._

Who the hell was this girl? Had he not seen her writing in it himself, he wouldn't have pegged her to be the one behind the pen. It seemed heavier than she did, what, with all her chipper attempts to have a conversation with him and her prettily braided blonde hair.

He knew he should just give the thing back but he didn't know how. He didn't know who she was or how to find her. Maybe there was an address somewhere in it; she was dumb enough to leave her stuff alone at the library, he mused. He opened the front cover.

_This journal belongs to: B. Greene_

B. Becky? Brenda? Barbie? Daryl snorted.

"What's so funny?" He all but jumped out of his skin at the voice, feet flying off his desk and the journal quickly shut. Carl stood in the side doorway of the garage, all moppy-headed and freckled, hopping down the steps one by one.

"What are you doin' here? Ain't you got school?" Avoiding the question, Daryl shoved the book into his desk drawer, eyes glued on Carl as the boy examined a scrap piece of wood on the workbench. B. Greene would have to wait.

"Half day today, it's the start of spring break!" Daryl groaned outwardly which only made the kid grin up at him. He really didn't mind Carl's company one bit; in fact, it was kind of nice having someone around who seemed to look up at him in one way or another. Plus, Carl seemed to have an interest in building stuff too. And if there was only one thing in the world Daryl was okay at, it was building things.

"So I'm gonna have to deal with your ugly mug every day for the next week, aren't I?"

"Yep, so get used to it." Carl moved to Daryl's boombox stashed in the corner, putting in a CD and turning the volume up. "If my dad knew you introduced me to this stuff..." he called out over the Butthole Surfers song. Daryl simply shook his head and nudged his elbow into the boy's shoulder before tossing him a slip of sandpaper.

"Get to work, boy."


	3. she died easy

**A/N: Sorry if these first few chapters seem slow; I'm just trying to set things up!**

**Hopefully you enjoy this one! :)**

* * *

Beth liked her job enough. It was very laid back and Carol, her boss, was pretty lenient with what days Beth wanted to work. It wasn't the most exciting thing in the world; there was only so much unexpectedness that could come from being a seamstress (or Cinderella, as Maggie used to love calling her. "It was the mice that did the sewing!" "Then I guess you're a rodent, Bethy.") But it definitely had its perks; she had made a number of acquaintances and even some friends through it, which was probably for the best given how intimate she sometimes had to be with customers.

She was typing away on a calculator, crunching numbers for the end of week totals, when she heard a rush of wind suck into the storefront. Looking up, she recognized Rick immediately and smiled warmly.

He used to rarely stop by; it was always Lori who was in and out, dropping off dry-cleaning and leaving Rick's pants to be hemmed. Beth was quite fond of her, how she held the title of housewife with such dignity and grace. It might not have been obvious to everyone, but Beth knew how much Lori juggled and handled on a regular basis. And when she was pregnant with Judith, she was glowing. At first, at least. Beth prided herself on being able to read people and it was clear to her that something wasn't right with the woman she had grown to adore. It wasn't in her right to pry but how she wondered what was making the spark in her every day demeanor fade and how Beth hoped it wasn't the baby. Rick had come in on his own shortly after, asking her to make a blanket from old t-shirts that he, Lori, and Carl had; it was gonna be a surprise for his wife. The sentiment warmed Beth's heart and maybe, she entertained, she had simply lost her touch and nothing was wrong with Lori at all.

When she first heard of Lori's passing from Carol, it didn't seem real. For days, Beth expected her to waltz in with an armful of projects to keep her busy, that twinkle back in her eye, all genuine and curious to the ongoings in Beth's life. But she never saw her face again and whenever she remembered that, there was a dull ache deep in her chest. She'd written plenty in her journal about everything; their friendship, her death, the way that she somehow filled a maternal role she hadn't acknowledged missing before. Lori was a gem to her.

Rick started coming by once in a blue moon again and the first time Beth met Judith, she melted. She was the most precious thing she'd ever laid eyes on and damn if she couldn't see so many bits and pieces of the woman she revered in her little girl. The blanket Beth had taken weeks to make was still wrapped in plastic, sitting and waiting for the right moment to be given back. And when she finally did present it to Rick, his face tensed and Adam's apple bobbed repeatedly. He didn't verbalize his thanks but he didn't need to; Beth knew how grateful he was by the gleaming of his eyes.

He was better now, for the most part. He smiled more easily and he didn't seem to carry Lori's death around his neck like an albatross, which Beth appreciated because now it was like they could just be themselves. She could continue to admire the Grimes family, even if it wasn't complete anymore.

"Hey Sheriff, what can I do for ya?" He was dressed in his uniform and seemed in a bit of a worried state, but her attention was stolen as soon as she focused in on the one-year-old in his arms. "Hi, sweet thing." Reaching a hand out, Judith grasped onto her finger without much hesitation. Beth's smile grew.

"Sorry for troublin' you at work, Beth, but I was wondering if you could watch her for a few hours? I gotta head in for some important stuff and I can't get ahold of her normal sitter."

Beth was a bit surprised at the favor but she wasn't about to turn it down. She couldn't imagine how stressful things had to be for Rick these days and damn if she could say no to Judith's big ol' eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. I don't think Carol will mind. And I'd love to spend some time with her." Rick let out a sigh of relief and thanked her profusely before dumping off Judith's things (and personally handing her Judith's stuffed bear that had been tucked in his back pocket), offering Beth a ride home in the evening for all her trouble. She just waved him off and explained she had Maggie's car for the day. And as quickly as he came, he was gone.

"Looks like it's just you and me today, Jude-bug," she hummed to the girl in her arms, who reflexively grabbed at the end of her braid.

* * *

"Still don't see why we couldn't take your bike," Carl all but grumbled, slamming the passenger's side door to Daryl's truck a bit harder than he would've liked. Daryl didn't warrant him with a response, just shook his head and let himself smirk; he supposed he understood where the kid was coming from. A certain amount of rebellion was normal in a young teenager like himself (lord knows Daryl had his fair share of that when he was younger), plus the death of his mom certainly changed him, but Daryl knew he still had to draw a line somewhere. He respected Rick too much to purposely induce stress on him by letting his son do whatever he wanted.

"Maybe when you're older and can get one of your own, your dad won't kill me." He didn't bother locking the door, since the Grimes' house was just a couple yards away and he was only gonna pop in to say hi to Rick.

The house was in a bit of disarray, which was normal, and Daryl was used to it anyway; it wasn't nearly as bad as his home was when he was growing up. The TV was on and Judith was locked in her highchair, wailing bloody murder. Daryl heard Rick in the kitchen, calling out in attempts to calm his daughter and he couldn't help but grin.

Carl pressed a kiss to his sister's head before darting down the hall to his room, just as Rick emerged into view, clad in his Sheriff uniform with an addition of some kind of food (or maybe something else) splattered on his chest. "Daryl, hey." He sounded exhausted and Daryl felt for the guy. "Carl botherin' you again?"

"He ain't no bother," Daryl replied honestly with a shrug. He figured maybe it helped out too, taking Carl off his hands for a few hours every couple of days. The company was nice, anyhow. "Kid still wants a cruiser though." The older man laughed at that, his tired eyes crinkling at the corners. He knew he shouldn't linger about; Rick had enough on his plate and Daryl hated feeling like a hinderance, which was a little ironic given his buddy's choice of words on his son. "Have a good'n, Rick."

The sun was just starting to sink when Daryl hopped back into his truck and lit up a cigarette. Going home and dealing with Merle wasn't exactly something he was looking forward to today, so he was gonna make the smoke in his hand last. The neighborhood was quiet and he nearly lost himself in his thoughts when he heard an engine.

A car he didn't recognize pulled up in front of Rick's house and a petite blonde emerged from the driver's side, clutching a purple bear that he knew to be Judith's.

It was the girl from the library.

Daryl sat up straight in his seat, leaning forward towards the windshield. Suddenly paranoid that he was obvious, he hunkered down a bit and flicked his cigarette out the window. He wasn't sure if he expected her to spot him and stomp on over, screaming at him for taking her journal, but his stomach clenched none the less. All she did though was ring the doorbell and hand the bear off to Rick with a smile and a wave, before popping back in her car and taking off.

What a small damn world, Daryl determined.

* * *

When Beth got home, she was surprised to find Maggie at her place. Since that night, she had spent nearly every moment with Glenn, not to mention every night. The elder Greene looked ragged and Beth almost called her out on it, but she didn't have the heart.

"Hey. You doin' okay?" Beth inquired in a gentle voice, setting down her purse and making a beeline for her sister, curled up on the couch. Maggie managed to flash a shaky smile her way.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Sorry I just let myself in; I thought you'd be home by now." Glancing at the clock on the end table, Beth realized she'd gotten home quite a bit later than she normally did.

"Don't need to apologize, you can always come by here. I was watching Judith, Sheriff Grimes' little girl?" Maggie seemed to tense at her explanation and maybe if she didn't know her sister so well, Beth wouldn't have noticed. "Maggie, I know you don't want to tell me what's going on but you can talk to me, about anything." Just speaking about it had a little bubble of anger growing in the pit of Beth's stomach; it wasn't just about curiosity, it was about pain. Seeing something so wrong with her sister and not knowing how to help, let alone what was causing it, was the absolute worst feeling.

"Glenn's waiting for me. I just wanted to check in on you." Beth wanted to scream and maybe even cry a little bit when her sister stood and lightly grabbed her arm, but she didn't. Before Maggie could pull away, Beth lunged at her with a hug, arms wrapping around her back tightly and her head to her sister's shoulder. It was a small relief when the gesture was returned.

Maggie took off and Beth was left alone again, silently wishing she had a child to watch over or a stranger in a library to make small talk with. She'd need to get a new journal soon but for now, her Walkman would have to be enough.

* * *

He didn't know what he was doing back there, at least so soon. Daryl knew he should avoid the library for at least a few more days, because the guilt of what he did (and the thumping of the journal like the Tell Tale Heart on his workbench, in his car, in his fucking hands) and the uncomfortable reality that he may just run into B. Greene again. Maybe he secretly wished for that to happen because since he saw her at Rick's place, she had lingered on in the back of his head. He wanted to know what her relationship to the Grimes family was. And part of him wanted to know what spurred her on to write the few things he had read.

For whatever reason, he ignored all logic and reason, taking a seat at the same damn table the two shared less than a week ago. And the inkling to read more overtook his common sense. Starting from the beginning made it seem too much like a novel, so he thumbed through a few random pages before catching a date at the top that stuck out. His birthday.

_Sometimes I want to be a hero. Sometimes I look at my life and see nothing but insignificance and I wonder what I am missing. What am I not doing that would make the world, the lives of the people around me, better? I spend so much time pondering that but I've yet to do anything about it. We become the things we do, not the things we think or dream of maybe, possibly doing someday. So if I continue doing nothing, then I guess that means I am nothing._

Daryl didn't realize how quiet the room had been until he heard a girlish voice babbling on only a couple of tables away. It's the girl again and without even thinking, he shut the journal and tucked it inside his leather jacket, hiding it the best he could.

"Did anyone happen to turn in a blue journal the last few days?" Daryl couldn't hear the the response of the librarian but he knew the answer anyway. And as if she could smell his guilt, the blonde turned and looked straight at him, making a beeline for his table once she recognized him.

"Hi... sorry to interrupt your Danish studying or whatever you're doing today, but do you remember seeing a journal the other day? I lost it here. Or something."


	4. dyin' dreams

**A/N: Thanks so much for all the reviews, favorites and follows! I truly appreciate it all and seeing them really makes my day. I'm trying to write at a quicker pace for you guys, I really am!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

There he was again, at the same table as before. There was nothing in his hands today, which was a little bit weird, she thought, because what the hell was he doing there anyway? People watching? Either way, she figured it couldn't hurt to ask him if he knew anything about her journal (she'd picked up a new one that morning but that didn't mean she was giving up on finding her first). Leave no stone unturned.

His eyes were wide and a bit crazy; Beth wasn't sure if she had scared him or caught him in the middle of something but she didn't really care. He had been a bit of a jerk to her the other day so he didn't deserve her concern anyway. "Hi... sorry to interrupt your Danish studying or whatever you're doing today, but do you remember seeing a journal the other day? I lost it here. Or something."

The man continued to stare at her, his eyes shifting into narrow slits as a scowl took over his lips. "Don't know what you're talkin' 'bout," was all he mumbled, tugging his jacket around his torso. Beth sighed, heavily, and gave a roll of her eyes. Like he would've been of any help, anyway. Some people nowadays were just anything but neighborly.

"Thanks," she replied flatly, turning and meandering away down one of the aisles. Her eyes flew from book spine to book spine, pointlessly hoping she'd stumble upon a blank blue one. She'd only made it down about one-fourth of the way when she heard his low voice.

"What's the big deal 'bout a journal?" Beth wasn't sure why he was initiating any kind of conversation with her. A few days prior, she would have happily obliged him by answering his question and giving him her direct attention but in that moment, she was too flustered. Her thoughts and theories were out there somewhere; she didn't have time to waste on people like him.

"That's really none of your business." Her voice was unusually cold, even if she could feel her cheeks heating up. He had the audacity to snort.

"You're the one who asked for my help."

"I didn't ask for your help, I just asked if you had seen it." He had wandered closer to her and it made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. There was something about him that left her feeling a little unsettled but she refused to let him know that. Rolling back her shoulders, she continued her search through the rows of books. Silence took over but she could hear him still shuffling somewhere behind her.

"What's it look like?" _I should just bite off his head_, she mused, licking over her lips before glancing back at him. He was letting his own eyes roam over the books on the other side of the aisle.

"It's plain, slim. Steel blue cover." He finally met her gaze, his eyebrows drawn together. Beth might have laughed if she hadn't still felt a little on edge around him.

"The fuck is steel blue?"

"It's a color..." The man didn't reply but he continued sifting through with his eyes; Beth finally picked up her own searching, though somewhat distracted. He disappeared around the corner and into the next aisle and she found herself staring at him through the small gaps and holes left between the shelves and books. His expression was serious, too long of hair continually falling into his eyes and she wanted him to flick his head in order to toss it back, but he never did. He was almost handsome, in a grungy kind of way.

She wanted to ask him what he was doing here, why he was helping her all of a sudden, but she couldn't find her voice in the moment. Glancing down at the too big pink watch on her wrist, she knew she had to be heading over to work. Carol had been having some troubles at home and Beth offered to pull more hours for a while to help her out.

Rounding the corner, she awkwardly pulled on a strap of her short overalls and cleared her throat to get his attention. "Um, thanks for helping me look. I mean, if you were looking, I don't know if you were, I just kinda assumed..." she trailed off, causing him to raise an eyebrow. She could almost swear he was smirking too and it did nothing to stop her from blushing. The guy sure left her with a really strange feeling. "But yeah, I need to get going." She averted her eyes from his steely gaze, nearly missing his words as she brushed past him in the aisle.

"'re welcome."

* * *

What a fucking idiot. Daryl knew he should have fessed up immediately, returned the stupid journal, and apologized for being a dick and taking it in the first place. He just couldn't find it in himself in that moment to admit to doing something so moronic. The girl was obviously distraught over the thing and he was playing dumb like the dumbass he truly was. The book seemed to burn a hole through his jacket and he couldn't wait till he at the site of his new job to get the thing off his person. Working with his hands, focusing on measurements and design, it was a welcomed distraction from everything else in his life. Not just B. Greene, but his brother too. He actually ended the day with a half-smile on his face (which was more than what he wore most of the time). When he arrived home though, Merle was there, which put a bit of a dampener on things.

"Little brother, where you been? Got some work for us t'do tonight," the elder Dixon crooned, managing to pull himself from the couch to stalk over to his brother.

"I ain't getting involved again, Merle," Daryl stated, doing his best to sound firm in his decision. He knew that wouldn't keep his brother from pushing him though; nothing was every that easy with him.

"What, that last scuffle shake you up? Thought I raised you tougher'n that, Darlina." Merle let out a hearty laugh at the sight of Daryl's annoyed expression. "Just gotta make sure folks hold up their end of the deals we make and I could use someone having my back. Ain't that what family's for, anyway? Having your back?"

Normally the guilt would've eaten away at Daryl; he had grown so used to bending over backwards for his brother because Merle was really all he had. But the past few months, things had gotten much heavier, and Daryl was anything but keen on it. As much as he didn't want to see his brother in trouble, he knew it was a slippery slope if he got too involved. Merle took his silence as answer enough.

"Fine then, got some buddies I can lean on. Enjoy your ladies' night."

His words stung a bit because no matter the circumstance, Daryl hated seeing Merle in a bad situation. It's not like his brother would listen to any kind of reasoning though, and Daryl knew the routine. Merle had to make his own damn mistakes and pay his own prices. He hadn't learned his lesson his whole life, he wasn't gonna start now; he wasn't ever gonna learn.

Daryl knew he should turn in early; his body ached in a nice way and he was letting Carl tag along with him to work tomorrow (with the a-okay from the homeowners he was working for), so he knew he'd be spent come punch out time. But his mind was not so easily turned off.

With the quiet of the apartment and the easiness of nighttime, the blonde girl from the library crept back into his mind. His stomach twisted at the thought of her, but not over his actions a few days back. She was a pretty thing, even when regarding him with a look of disdain. Her hair was shiny and curled, and he can't forget the sliver of skin he caught between the back of her overalls and the hem of her cropped shirt beneath them. That was why his stomach kept knotting itself up; not only was he a jackass, he deemed himself a creep too.

_Hair of the dog_, he reasoned with himself, laying back on his bed and pulling out her journal. Her steel blue journal. He had to laugh a little.

_Maggie's not the same. I suppose none of us are, after everything that happened; I know I'm certainly not. But I can see it in her eyes, when she finds the will to look at me, that something struck her deeper. This thing, it's complicated, and her not opening up to me is so painful because I want to help. I want to help her and I want to help Glenn but I get the feeling that they think I won't be able to do anything. And maybe I won't, who knows the crap that they've gotten themselves into, but I still have a right to know after I because a part of it. I use that argument on her but that's not why I want to know; I'm glad I'm involved though, because it gives me reason to question her, them, even if they aren't cracking just yet._

* * *

_Starting new is strange but I suppose it has its perks. It gives me a chance to take all my random thoughts and ramblings and make something of them, on a clean slate. Maybe then things will make more sense. Maybe there isn't much sense to be made at all. Perhaps I let my mind take off and go places that are so ridiculously absurd and I lost sight of how things really are. There's still kindness, goodness, in the world, even if it doesn't always present itself in a front and center fashion. Maybe starting over was what I needed to pull back and really look at my life and the world around me. Maybe everything that dies some day comes back._

Beth set down her pen and looked up from her writing in her new purple covered journal, humming the song her words threw into her head. She could see Glenn and Maggie through the doorway of her bedroom, whispering to each other, leaned against the kitchen counter. Maggie smiled and it was an easy one, natural, and the sight of it filled Beth's chest with a warmth she hadn't experienced in a long time. She had spent the whole afternoon with her sister, talking about the wedding and debating which kind of cake reigned supreme. It had been a while since Beth had felt so connected with Maggie and she cherished the day. She hadn't even been tempted to prod the older Greene for any more information on that night.

"I'll call you tomorrow, okay?" Maggie was suddenly in her doorframe, smiling softly. Beth just nodded and waved goodbye, catching Glenn doing the same over her sister's shoulder. Yeah, maybe she had gotten a bit caught up in the notion that they were hiding something from her. Curiosity still ran rampant inside her and she worried for their well-being, enough so to peer out her window and watch them on the sidewalk below, disappearing into Glenn's car. Something wasn't right but things seemed to have settled for now and she had faith that in time, in their own time, they would fill her in.

* * *

Daryl's eyes had been growing heavy and it was useless for him to fight sleep. He nodded off with the journal splayed across his chest but the blast of the phone ringing woke him right up. He didn't know who'd be calling, hardly anyone had the number, and looking at the clock, he was even more annoyed. It was too damn late for anyone to be prank calling, if that was the case.

"What?" he all but growled into the receiver.

"Need your ass at Peachtree and Linden." Merle's voice was full of static and Daryl could hear the rumble of a passing car. He must have been at some payphone downtown.

"Fuck off, Merle, I told ya I'm not a part of it."

"I ain't askin' you to back me, ya pansy, I need a ride. Hunted down the Chinese kid and then Martinez took off, left me stranded." Daryl groaned, turning around to look at the clock again, the cord of the phone tangling him up. He had to be heading to work in a few hours.

"Fine, hold tight."


	5. all there's good

**A/N: I really wanted to make this chapter longer but I realized it had been nearly a week since I updated. So hopefully this will hold you guys over for a bit. :)**

**Enjoy and as always, thanks so much for reading and commenting!**

* * *

The wound on Daryl's thigh was healing fine; he wasn't keeping it bandaged anymore even though he was sure it could rip open at any time, but that was a risk he was willing to take. It was easily hidden, nobody ever saw his legs anyway, rarely even Merle. Merle, his dumbass brother who didn't know when he was in way over his head, who dragged him out of bed in the middle of the night to pick him up because he couldn't keep his buddies in line. Daryl tried to talk some sense into him; he knew the Chinese kid had supposedly screwed Merle over somehow but was it really worth all the trouble he was going to? Evidently the older Dixon thought so and made a point to say that if Daryl thought a little gash on his leg was bad, he was a "bigger pansy-ass 'lil bitch" than he thought and he was in for "a fucking rude awakening". For once, there was no trace of sarcasm in his brother's voice so Daryl didn't push the issue. Even if Merle wasn't too beat up anymore, something was really scaring him pretty bad.

Daryl's hand was another story. The bruising had faded into yellowy, green splotches all over his knuckles and the back of his hand. Nobody really questioned it, except Carl of course, who was ever the curious pain in the ass. While he's not a great fibber, Daryl managed to sate the boy with an elaborate story involving defending a woman at a bar from her jackass boyfriend. Badass enough for Carl to enjoy but still a good deed, right? Teaching a nice lesson. Daryl thought so anyway.

He had promised the kid that he would show him how to use a circular saw today; he debated whether it was a good idea or not since he hadn't run it by Rick but damn, the kid was thirteen now and he wasn't an idiot. Plus Daryl would be right there just in case things got out of control and he somehow was about to slice off his entire arm.

Things were pretty quiet that day, Carl was weirdly quiet. He seemed focused on the work that Daryl was showing him (maybe because he had promised him a cut of his pay if he did alright), so when he finally spoke up about something that wasn't pertained to their actual project, Daryl was taken aback a little.

"Your dad teach you how to do this stuff?" Carl inquired innocently enough, as Daryl moved the boy's hands so he was properly supporting the lumber he was about to cut.

"Naw." He knew his short answer wouldn't satisfy the kid but he wasn't sure how to elaborate.

"Your brother?" Daryl didn't talk about Merle much but he had come up in passing; Carl knew he had an older brother and that the two lived together, and he knew that his mother had died too. He didn't know any of his family's darker matters, for which Daryl was grateful, because a boy his age, mature or not, didn't really need to know that stuff.

"Yeah right, Merle's about as good with tools as you are at Mario Kart." For that comment, Daryl got a hard glare, which only made him laugh out. He steadied Carl's hands and helped him slice through the wood with ease, earning a grin from the Grimes boy.

"Who taught you, then?" Daryl shrugged, blowing off the sawdust and watching as Carl followed suit, even if there wasn't much left to get rid of.

"Just kinda taught myself, I guess. Picked up stuff along the way. So be thankful ya got a mentor in me," he pointed out, pulling the tape measure from the tool belt slung around his hips. He handed it to the boy and watched as he measured the piece they just cut.

"When are you gonna let me do this on my own?"

"Wax on, wax off." Carl gave him a confused look, clearly not knowing what he was referring to, and only got a toothy grin in return.

* * *

Daryl had made a habit of being at the library the past few days. Since he had run into B. Greene again, he found himself wanting an excuse to be around her and while it was futile and, honestly, pretty awful of him to help her hunt down a journal that he knew was nowhere to be found in the building, it was as good of an excuse as any.

What he had first found annoying about her, he now found intriguing. She spoke with him with such ease, even though she knew next to nothing about him. He knew far more about her, not that she was aware of that, and he could rarely bring himself to start any conversation on his own. It was in the back of his mind that he might slip up and mention something that he wasn't supposed to know about her, so that was reason enough to let her steer the conversations.

He had found himself in the multimedia section though it seemed silly because if her journal was somewhere misplaced in the building (it was at his apartment, tucked safely away in his desk drawer), it wouldn't be with movies or CDs. But he pretended to look around anyway.

The girl had wandered off on her own and when Daryl was finished pointlessly searching the shelves he was facing, he went to find her. It took him a few moments but he spotted a flash of her blonde hair back by the comic books, which didn't make much sense to him. She had seemingly stopped her perusing and was flipping through a comic idly. Not wanting to spook her, he spoke up as soon as he was in earshot. "Any luck?" She didn't answer and he took that as a no, pulling open another drawer and letting his eyes pretend to roam over the rows of colorful issues.

"You like comics?" she finally asked and he couldn't help but snort. She laughed a little too, shrugging her shoulders. "Guess that was a dumb question. You don't strike me as the comic book type."

"Don't go pegging me as something or another. I like superheroes just fine." She looked over at him with an incredulous expression. "What? Know a kid who's really into them, he's rubbed off on me." He almost mentioned Carl by name but he remembered how closely he and B. Greene actually were connected, and now didn't seem like the right moment to spring that on her.

"Yeah? Me too. I like the Superman movies. And I always think of that song." Her face got this far away look on it, as if she was trying to transport herself back to another time, a certain moment.

"Which song?"

"The, um... Superman never made any money saving the world from Solomon Grundy. And sometimes I despair the world will never see another man, like him..." she sang, pink tinting her cheeks as she glanced over at Daryl from the corner of her eye.

Daryl was caught off guard by her voice; it matched her in its prettiness and soft nature, the way it tugged up on the corners of his lips. He tried to bite back his smile, suddenly feeling self-conscious about his reaction, so instead he just nodded, even if though he wasn't familiar with it at all. "'cept he's no man."

"What do you mean?"

"He's not a man, he's an alien."

"Well, yeah, but he was still a better man than a lot of people. Like the song says, he held down a real job, he could've done whatever he wanted but he used his powers and skills for good. He was selfless and humble... that's a real hero." Daryl thought back on her words, the ones she had written down some time ago and he had read without her knowing. She admitted to wanting to be a hero herself, she wanted to better the lives of other people. His mind drifted to Rick and Carl and little Judy; he shifted back and forth on his feet.

"Don't know the song," Daryl admitted, staring at the comics in front of him but not really processing what any of them said. Not that it mattered, he wasn't going to find her journal there anyway.

"That's a shame, it's real good." She paused for a second and Daryl took that as a cue for them to get back to work with their quest, but she was quick to speak up again. "I don't even know your name and yet you're helping me now, you've been helping me the past few days." Something in Daryl's chest constricted and he feared the worst; she somehow knew he had her journal, she knew all along but she was drawing it out to see if he would confess and come clean. "I'm Beth." She held out her hand to him and he must've stared at it like she was diseased because her bright face fell a bit when their eyes locked.

"Daryl." He left it at that, ignoring her hand altogether as he focused his attention back on the drawers in front of him. Beth Greene. It was weird how a name could fit a face and a person so well, even if he hardly knew her. Beth seemed very fitting. It was simple and feminine, but not overly so. It went with her laugh, what little of it he had heard. And when he realized he was thinking far too much about her, about her name, he clenched his jaw.

"Well, thank you for your help, Daryl. Sorry I was rude to you before, it was uncalled for." He found it somewhat humorous that she was the one apologizing but all he did was grunt in reply, sneaking a look over at her only when he could feel her blue eyes burning holes into him. Her hair was pulled back in two buns, all messy and frizzy, short blonde wisps curling out and away. Beth smiled at him, so genuinely that he almost forgot what an ass he was. "You heard of Mazzy Star?" Daryl shook his head and before he could get a word in (though it wouldn't have been more than just that), she was babbling on as she flipped through the stack of comics in her hands. He didn't really mind listening to her talk, though.

* * *

It was the sixth day straight she had visited the library, searching every shelf and drawer and crevice of the colossal building for her lost journal. She hadn't realized how big the place actually was until scouring every inch of it was her mission; it was nice having some help though, even if she still wasn't clear on why Daryl was helping her. She was surprised how quickly she became comfortable around him, not hearing him sneak up on her as she was zoned in on a row of biographies, only to jump and laugh in relief when she recognized him. Even the staff had grown used to them, to both of them together, the woman at the information desk pointing out his location to Beth when she had shown up later than usual the other day. It was strange but somehow nice to have a routine, even if she knew next to nothing about the man helping her.

She knew she owed him for all his help and wasting all sorts of time with her search, but thinking of a proper way to show it was more difficult than she had imagined. A mixtape seemed like an alright idea, given that they had talked a bit about music and seemed to have very different taste; Soundgarden and Butthole Surfers were two bands she knew very little about, which he had no problem harping on her for. It worried her that it was too high schooler hey-go-to-prom-with-me? and that he would laugh in her face or worse, pull the totally disgruntled look he had worn the first few times they had interacted, which made her feel like a complete annoyance. But she was brave, or at least attempting to be, and spending hours the night before deliberating on which of her favorite songs to record onto cassette for him seemed very personal and sincere.

They only had the Children's section to finish up but Beth had to be on her way to meet Maggie and Glenn for dinner. Daryl shrugged and without a goodbye (he never said goodbye to her), he turned to head off. But before he could get too far, she reached out and gingerly grabbed his arm.

"Um, so, I know I've thanked you at least a dozen times and you probably think I'm super annoying at this point but really, thanks for your help. You don't have to waste your time helping me out but you do, and that really means a lot to me," she all but rambled on, earning a raised eyebrow from Daryl which made her face seem suddenly very warm.

"Like Superman?" It took her a second to understand his reference but once she did, her nerves settled a bit and she let out an airy laugh.

"Yeah, you're just like Superman." Even he grinned a little at that and Beth couldn't help but notice how handsome he was when there was a flicker of happiness on his face. "But um, I made you this. As a thank you. Well, another way to say thank you." Digging through her tiny backpack, she pulled out the tape case and held it out for him. Daryl plucked it out of her fingers and read the label with squinted eyes. "I don't think we're gonna find my journal, if we haven't by now."

"No sense in losing faith now, might as well see it through." He pocketed the tape in his jacket before giving her a nod and sauntering off, leaving Beth to let out the sigh she had been holding in. She hated how he sometimes made her face burn and stomach swirl.

* * *

When Daryl made it home, he was relieved to find he had the apartment to himself. He had sat in the library parking lot for a good ten minutes, debating on listening to the tape Beth had given him then and there in his truck but for whatever reason, putting it in the player was too nerve-wracking. He had never really received a gift before, especially one as personal as a mixtape. He knew what went into making them and the thought of her taking the time to put one together for him ate away at his insides. She was being so good, so kind, and he was nothing but a liar.

Alone in his room, he finally built up the nerve and put the tape into his small, beat to all hell boombox. The first song that came on was one he didn't know; it was upbeat and while he didn't recognize the actual song, he knew the voice. Everyone knew the sound of the Gallagher brothers and Oasis. It wasn't typically something he would listen to but he figured that was the point. It was very B. Greene. Very Beth.

It was odd how badly he wanted to get to know her; he supposed that's why he was so inexplicably drawn to reading her thoughts, even when the guilt was gnawing away at him. He wished he could do it in person, hold normal conversations and learn all about her through her own voice, but he had no clue how to really go about that. And knowing she thought so highly of him, that he was such a great guy for helping her when he didn't have to, it almost made him sick. He had dug himself the hole he was lying in. The least he could do was return the thing to her, finally, even if it would be difficult or awkward or end in him getting slapped. He just had to figure out what was the best way to go about it, the best way for her and hopefully the best way for him.

* * *

**A/N: I have been working on a soundtrack for this story and I plan on posting it to my tumblr soon! Feel free to talk to me on there as well as here; I'm swiftasdeer on there. :)**


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